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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868173">New Memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon'>Unusual_Raccoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Arrow (TV 2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Day 7 - First Christmas, Developing Relationship, Drinking to Cope, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lauriver Holidays 2020, Mentioned Quentin Lance - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:28:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 7 - First Christmas &amp; Sentence Prompt: "You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”</p><p>After the death of her father, Laurel isn't sure she can make it through another Christmas alone - thankfully, she doesn't have to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>New Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic takes place during season 6, the timeline is a little fudged, but I don't care. Hope you like it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Laurel winced as she sat down on the couch, the old cushions practically melting beneath her weight. Shrugging off her jacket, she kicked her feet up on Quentin’s coffee table with a sigh. Ignoring the paperwork littering the table’s surface she had absentmindedly knocked off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Placing the unopened bottle of bourbon in her lap, her thumb ran reverently up and down the plastic seal. A maudlin pride burned dimly in her chest at the full bottle, untouched where she found it abandoned in the old man’s apartment. He probably hadn’t even remembered where he had hidden it, ignorant to the temptation of its presence buried in an old desk drawer. She was proud he had stayed sober, but just because her father did, that didn’t mean she had to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Picking at the plastic seal with her chipped nails, Laurel eventually peeled the bothersome film away. Unscrewing the cap, she flicked the top off, watching as it rattled anticlimactically against the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The holidays weren’t her favorite time of year, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure she had a favorite time of year...too many bad memories. This one was just one to add to the collection. If she was going to get through it this year she would need a bit of booze to help her along. She supposed her foul mood had little to do with being on a different Earth, even if she was back home, she didn’t have family to celebrate with.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gave a small sniffle as the silence seemed to creep in on her, unsolicited tears welling in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curling her hand around the neck of the bottle, she brought it to her lips, taking a long draught despite the way the potent alcohol burned, stinging the little raw spot she had chewed along the inside of her cheek. She grimaced as she swallowed the mouthful, letting out a sigh as the bourbon settled hotly in her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sniffling as she wiped away the excess liquid that had dripped down her chin, stubbornly soaking it up with the corner of her sleeve.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel quickly brought the bottle back to her lips, eager to wash away the bothersome lump forming in her throat. Letting her hand and subsequently the bottle land back by her side, digging into the couch cushion. Her fingers trembled as she dragged them through her hair, digits curling cruelly at her naturally dark roots as a sob throbbed caged in her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swallowed the cry with another mouthful of bourbon, it was bitter and hot and lit her up from the inside out like gasoline. Staring at the ceiling, stubborn unshed tears blurring her vision, not that there was much to see. Scrubbing furiously at her glassy eyes with her wet sleeve, Laurel hissed at the accidental burn of alcohol. Her eye throbbed painfully, aching behind her tightly closed eyelid. Scrambling up from the couch, the bottle still held firmly in her grasp as she bumbled over to the kitchenette.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turning on the sink, it felt like an eternity until the water was somewhat warm. Dipping her head beneath the faucet, Laurel winced as she pried her stubbornly closed eye open, allowing water to wash over her irritated eye. She took swigs of bourbon between feverish blinks, flushing out her eye continuously until it didn’t hurt so much to blink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course she managed to have an even shittier time by herself. It was almost comical…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the countertop, Laurel sniffed tiredly, water dripping from her face where she gazed disinterestedly down at her black combat boots. Eventually she dried off with a clean enough dish towel, her makeup was smudged to all hell, but she figured that was the least of her problems. There was something fitting about being able to wallow in her own misery, she was good at it - practice makes perfect and Laurel certainly had a lot of practice. Though try as she might, it seemed like another Christmas alone wasn't in the cards for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stiffening at the sound of a knock at the front door, Laurel remained still, silently hoping whoever it was would fuck off and go enjoy the holidays like every other normal person. Swallowing, her eyes wide as she anticipated the distant thump of retreating footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel tensed as another knock sounded, identical to the first…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking her bottle with her as she quietly crept to the door, she stared, unmoving as she studied the door, bewildered as to who could be hanging around Quentin’s apartment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She flinched as the doorknob began to rattle, twisting back and forth fruitlessly. Laurel stepped back with a frown, intent on waiting out whoever was at the door. Hopefully they’d give up, she didn’t have time to entertain anyone else’s bullshit, she pretty much had her hands full with her own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her brow furrowed as she heard the little lock come undone, the doorknob turning without resistance, the door swinging open to reveal-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oliver?” Laurel said in disbelief. This had to be some sort of joke. She knew she had a bit to drink on an empty stomach, but she wasn’t drunk, and certainly not intoxicated enough to start hallucinating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi.” He said quietly, not quite smiling though his irritatingly cute dimples darkened his cheeks beneath his sandy blonde scruff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I come in?” Oliver asked in that same quiet rumble.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel scoffed, gesturing to the unlocked door, “Might as well.” She said, stepping back far enough for Oliver to enter. Closing the door behind him, Laurel turned back towards her guest. Her gaze lingered on his broad back before he turned to face her, his big hands stuffed into the pockets of his peacoat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would’ve cleaned up if I knew you were coming over.” She drawled sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at just how unfazed Oliver appeared by her words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here, Ollie?” Laurel asked, quickly continuing before Oliver could answer, “Is divorced life that bad?” She added, electrified by the subtle way his mouth pressed into a thin dissatisfied line. Misery loves company, and Laurel was miserable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” He replied simply, not giving her the pleasure of being too ruffled by her careless prodding. She could feel his gaze sweep over her, it was gratifying in a way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or,” Laurel purred, taking a nip of bourbon from the bottle, swallowing the burning mouthful before continuing, “Did you come here for something else?” Adding a playful wiggle of her brows for good measure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver sucked in a breath, ducking his head down briefly, like it had come as a surprise. In very typical boring fashion he didn’t take the bait. She was disappointed he didn’t, Laurel could’ve used some sloppy emotionless sex. His gaze was on her again, flickering down to the bottle of booze in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” He asked, sounding far too disappointed for her liking. And damn if that wasn’t the million dollar question, what was she doing?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lifting the bottle, amber liquid sloshing in the glass container as she eyed the label.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Helping myself,” Laurel said, punctuating her lackluster explanation with another pull from the bottle, her stomach was on fire, “not like the old man needs it - he’s dead.” That bothersome lump nestling in her throat like a stone, it ached when she swallowed, made her breathing a challenge. Maybe that was the ironic thing, having lost her father once, Laurel figured doing it a second time would be a breeze...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Laurel…” Oliver murmured, his voice sounded heavy and thick with regret. She nearly crumbled at the warm press of his hand against her shoulder, that abhorrent tide of emotion practically swallowing her up. As much as she wanted to stay mad, stay drowned in her own pain, in the holidays, in her grief, the tender squeeze of his palm felt unbearably </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were leaning into each other, the hand on her shoulder creeping to gently cup the back of her neck. He felt warm and solid, and corporeal, maybe that was worse? He wasn’t a tainted memory haunting her, he was real…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her tears stained his shirt where she had pressed her face into his chest, he smelled like pine needles and fabric softener, and like Oliver Queen. A scent that elicited too many memories, provided both comfort and pain. Laurel wasn’t keen on crying, she didn’t like how it made her feel, yet, laying against Oliver’s chest, she found herself letting out the tempest of emotion swirling in her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even more confusing than the myriad of feelings she was swallowed up in was the comforting curl of his arms around her, the desperate clutch he held her in. It was terrifyingly wonderful, mixing with the muddied cocktail of grief and loneliness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sucking in a shaky breath as she pulled back from where she had hidden her face, Laurel winced at the smear of mascara on his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Ollie?” Laurel asked in a whisper, her voice hoarse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled, it was warm and placating and made Laurel frustratingly dizzy, or maybe that had been the booze. His hand came up to gingerly cup her cheek, it was intimate and familiar, joined by the calming scrape of his thumb brushing away her tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Christmas.” He said quietly, and Laurel sniffled belatedly, not thrilled at the thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m well aware.” She murmured bitterly, swayed by the warm drag of his rough palm across her wet cheek. It had only just occurred to her that this was her first Christmas on this Earth, though all the former ones had been equally as isolating and disappointing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled again, that disarming smile, “You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite how she tried to always uphold the snarky, downright cruel facade everyone expected from her, it was hard not to be touched by his words. Laurel sniffled, swallowing her tears, feeling a stubborn pleasant warmth creep into her chest. Of course he had remembered, because it wasn’t like he didn’t have any other pressing matters in his life than spending Christmas with her. Like his kid, who Laurel assumed was probably spending the holidays with his mother, or his recent divorce that had been a headache and she hadn’t even been a part of it, or yet another murderous psycho with a personal vendetta...the list went on, and yet, here he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D-don’t you have somewhere better to be?” She asked quietly, almost afraid to ask the question for fear that it might make Oliver realize how ridiculous it was for him to spend his Christmas with her, of all people. She was entirely unaccustomed to being - well, thought of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better than here?” He asked, lips quirked in a pleased smile. Laurel felt her cheeks grow hot, because of course the bastard was able to make her blush on today of all days. She smiled despite herself, not quite able to fight the urge to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was new.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you Queen’s have a massive Christmas party every year?” Laurel asked, feeling a pang of loss at the thought. The memory of the last Christmas party she had attended was still a vibrant memory despite how long ago it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They have those on your Earth too?” He asked with a smile, a hint of curiosity and fondness on his handsome face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel chuckled, “I think it’s a universal thing.” They both smiled at the thought, clearly both in possession of fond memories from those extravagant Queen Christmas parties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well...there’s not many Queens left here.” Oliver said mournfully. The bottle of bourbon made a little swish as she lifted the bottle in offering, pressing the glass neck into his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oliver glanced down at the spot where their hands brushed as he accepted the bottle, there was a warm thrill that tingled between their skin. Laurel felt a rush of excitement skitter through her as she felt his fingers teasingly link with hers. His hand swallowing up the neck of the bottle where he held it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, what are we drinking to?” He asked with a smile, giving a small tug on their linked hands, pulling Laurel towards his chest. Not that she was complaining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her faint smile broadening as she stared up at him, his nose dipping precariously close to nudging hers. It was clear they both had their fair share of old, foul remembrances that resurfaced every year - vestiges of a life neither of them had anymore. Laurel was tired of living in the past, tired of reliving the same hurt year after year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leaning up on the tips of her toes, Laurel took his face in her hands, sucking in a giddy breath, the warm smokey tang of bourbon coloring her lips as she closed the distance between them. Oliver’s lips were warm, a little chapped from the cold weather, but Laurel didn’t mind. His tongue felt rough beneath hers, like he had burned it recently, and he tasted sweetly of hot cocoa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Laurel smiled against his lips, she knew exactly what they could drink to…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New memories.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was an interesting fic to write for sure, I know I messed with some details from the season, but honestly season 6 was that bad. For those who may be wondering, Thea already left with Roy at this point, because I know for a fact if she were around, she would be there right alongside Oliver trying to cheer Laurel up.</p><p>Anyway, if you did enjoy this fic, please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I always love to hear my readers have to say.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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